"Jane?" I asked. To hear from her what quite a shock when it wasn't late in the day. Even at 2:00 PM, it was odd that Jane would be awake without a reason such as school.

"I called to see if you were in need of rescue from your family." Jane stated. I chuckled. Jane would often call to rescue me from family bonding time, not to mention how often the two of us did it with Daria. Although the luncheon was over, who knew what other hell my parents had in store. Maybe they'd try a family game of golf. I shuddered.

"What was that noise?" Jane asked. I had forgotten that I was still on the phone.

"I was imagining the 7th layer of hell."

"Spending time with your sister?"

"Not even Satan wants her there. Got plans in mind?" I asked jovially, almost pathetically eager.

"Well, right now I'm working on a sculpture, something I'm going to bring with me to BFAC once I get there mid-semester."

"Boston Fine Arts College? I didn't know you made it in." I stated.

"Oh...right. Well, get your ass on over here and I'll tell you all about it. Besides, I need a critic."

"One chewing out, coming right up." Jane always put me in a good mood. We had put a little distance between us when we broke up, but we had reconciled during my time with Daria, and Jane and I often went to Mystik Spiral's gigs, even when Daria didn't go. Trent and the band seemed eager to have me along, although I had only conversed with Trent at any length. Of course, conversations with Trent were limited to food, sleep, and hot girls. I never gave input into his music, and everything else went over his head.

I had no idea if Daria had told her anything about last night. I figured that Jane would know. Daria's closest friend, girls share everything, and all some such nonsense. I knew if I went over there, I'd have to be on my guard. Jane rarely could muster up the effort for any sort of subtlety, but she had her ways.

But anything would be better then my parents' plans. Even an interrogation.

"I'll be over in ten minutes."


The Lane household spawned some of the most creative thinkers I knew. Jane may have been single-minded in her art, often forgetting I'd even be around once she got started. But her obsession was well-deserved. I didn't know the first thing about how success worked or was even measured in the art world, but Jane had talent. Trent was the only other Lane I knew, and he knew how to rock a venue. From what I gathered, there was other Lanes elsewhere in the world. The parents chasing the next great Muse somewhere across the world, and her siblings. If I remembered correctly, one sold things at third-world craft stands, one was divorced several times, and the other one had problem children who ran away from home frequently. I could probably even remember their names if I thought hard enough. Jane only talked of them dismissively, so I thought it best not to prod anymore then that. Daria never spoke of them at all.

Jane answered the door. Dressed in red and black as always, she seemed exactly the same. It almost soothed me to see how unchanged she looked, ever since my world had turned upside down.

"Hey. How ya' doin'?" Jane seemed happy to see me. Our relationship had gotten to the point where we even hugged on occasion.

"Graduation luncheon with my parents. A bunch of old people posturing themselves and drinking to forget the fact that they're practically useless now that they can't give me lectures." I didn't exactly answer her question, although she would understand.

"If only there was some way we could all that useless pretense into feeding the hungry."

"Well, they do seem to thrive on it. Maybe we should take the food away and test your theory. So, show me the sculpture." I invited. Jane led me upstairs to her room. Her studio space had many haphazard projects thrown around.

"You should just use this room as your masterpiece. How you can live, watch TV, and work on half a dozen concurrent projects has to be worth something."

"And I only touch hot solder occasionally. What do you think?" Jane showed me her latest work, a creation made from wood with various materials around it. I had always considered paintings to be Jane's best medium. Her work was so evocative on canvas that it seemed to suck me into separate worlds. I could see how she would get so drawn in sometimes, although Jane tended to take it to the extremes. The sculpture she showed me was something different.

"Did you throw dirt on it?" I asked.

"Instant tea mix." She replied.

"Is a comment on the frivolity of society? How we're so used to the quick-fix get-it-done now attitude that we can't take in the classics?" I asked.

"It was the best color of brown can find, and it was powdery enough to spread with a brush without sticking too much." The way we spoke about her art, my searching for a deeper meaning and Jane's sarcastic briefs, were almost like a private joke between us. It was the backbone of our relationship when we went out, aside from the physical attraction.

"You don't like it, do you?" Jane asked. I couldn't lie to Jane about her art, not that I would. It meant too much to her.

"You know I'm better with your paintings anyway." I defended. I didn't state that I didn't like it, but I really think she had done better.

"Sorry, I've just been distracted lately."

"Distracted?" I asked.

"BFAC admissions, had a lot of trouble deciding whether or not to go. And now that it's all over with I'm finally getting back into the idea of making work to impress people. I only had to throw up twice today."

"I didn't know anything about it." I reminded her. "I know you had applied to some minor colleges that turned you down, but that was about it."

"Yeah, there is a lot more to the story then that. Well, originally I hadn't decided to go to college at all."

"I know that part." I replied. "And congratulations, now that I know about it. BFAC's tough, that you produced art to impress them just validates the talent we both knew you had." I remembered Daria's accusations about Raft, and I wasn't going to fall for that one.

"You mean you knew I had. I wasn't going to do it until Daria kept nagging me." My face paled a bit. I knew the conversation would turn to Daria eventually. In relation to Jane wasn't bad, but it was still the topic of college. But my curiosity was peaked.

"So Daria got you to go?"

"Yeah, Daria kept nagging me and nagging me. Of course, this was after she got wait listed at Bromwell, so she told me she'd take you up on your offer to write a recommendation if I sent in a port..." Jane's lips kept moving, but my ears stopped functioning. Rage at Daria impeded my senses. Jane turned to look at me, and saw my choler.

"Oh, crap." Jane paused.

"Wait, she didn't really want me to do that for her? It was just a bribe to get you to apply to college."

"Hey!" Now Jane was upset. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not talking about you, Jane, I'm talking about her. I can't believe it. That recommendation was positively glowing." I wasn't about to let Jane change the subject.

"And yet, she still didn't get in." Jane commented.

"All that effort, the careful choosing of words." I continued to rant.

"So you had to stretch to write it?" Jane accused.

"No!" I shot back. "But you only get one chance to write it, so it has to be done right on the first try."

"And yet, she still didn't get in." Jane echoed.

"Jane, why are you defending her?" I asked. "This doesn't bother you, that she took advantage of me and my mother?"

"I'm not defending her, I'm just glad she cared enough about my future to do something she didn't want to do. And anyway, what do you care? You're the one who said all that alumni crap didn't mean that much." Jane snuck in an accusation.

"Ouch." I thought. That wasn't a low blow, that was straight for the jugular. And I had no defense against it.

"I...I was willing to do what it took to help her get in. I figured it couldn't hurt." My protest was weak, but it was the best I could muster. I knew Jane could shatter it. Hell, I could shatter it myself.

But Jane didn't shatter it. She looked as though she was about to, but stopped herself. Her eyes grew wide, her shoulders slumped. Her face lost it's choler.

"You believe it, don't you?" Jane said, but her tone had dropped it's accusatory remark. Instead, she sounded almost remorseful, as if she had come to the conclusion that I had been trying so painfully to deny, and lamented the fact that she was using it against me. I realized then that I had never told Jane about Bromwell, and how much this was bothering me. Did she discover my concern over my admission just now, or did she think about it earlier, and never talked to me about it?

"Tom." Now she sounded almost repentant. "I know your grades, your activities, and all that. You deserved to get into Bromwell." I didn't believe her. How could I believe her?

"Jane, I have to go." I told her, and before she could stop me, I practically fled from her house.


I didn't know where to go anymore. I had to find something, anything, that would distract me from thinking too much. I would have loved to hit the Zon, but it tended not to be open in the late afternoon. There was no one else to meet in Lawndale, and I'd have to head back home if I wanted to call anyone, and that left the potential for an interrogation from Mom, or worse, the concept of spending a day together now that Dad had taken the day off.

I settled on the library. It certainly wasn't the epitome of exciting, but it would keep me busy for a few hours. At least by then, the Zon would be open, and then I would be perfectly capable of losing myself in a crowd of hard-rockers, even if the band sucked. I took my seat at a table and started reading various books on the Russian Revolution. Most of it was information I already knew. But I found I couldn't lose myself in the books. I knew this stuff, I did get good grades. I know what students getting into Bromwell were getting as far as academics were concerned, and there was no reason for me to not believe that I lacked for that. My standardized test scores were impeccable, a perfect math SAT score and a decent enough verbal; certainly enough to make it there. Like Daria, I didn't have much in the way of extra-curricular school activities, although I was able to write down enough to at least fill in the four lines they allotted on the application, but only because I wrote sentences rather then a list. And my interview with Lisa was flawless.

"So then, why? Why should Daria's bitterness bother you. If you know you made it in, why does the fact that someone's jilted reaction get to you." The words of the book started to swirl, and I couldn't read anymore. I slammed the books down, and left quickly, trying to find anything to waste the time until the Zon opened.

But there was nothing, so I decided to sneak back home.

"Oh, Tom, there you are." Mom noticed me come in.

"Crap." I thought.

"I thought we'd all spend the day together." She stated. If it were anyone other then her, I would have figured someone was trying to guilt-trip me. She just didn't possess the subtlety.

"Wish you woulda said something. Besides, Jane called." My tone was neither repentant nor accusatory. That was always my biggest weapon against spending time with my mother, she never said everything.

"Oh, how is Jane?" Mom asked.

"She's fine. She's going to art college, Boston Fine Arts."

"Well isn't that lovely." Mom replied, her golden standard for saying the right thing even though she didn't mean it. Mom had been cordial to Jane, but behind closed doors I knew that she didn't approve of me dating her, for a wealth of reasons ranging from becoming an artist to her less-then-impressive academic scores to her parents. I had to resist the urge to tell Mom that Dad was about as involved as the Lanes, but that wasn't the entire truth. In the over half a year I dated Jane, her parents weren't even home. I couldn't accuse Angier Sloane of that.

"Well, dear, I wish you'd reconsider about the Landons." Mom stated. "It's a good idea to know the people who might be in the country club."

"Mom, I only ever go to the country club for the occasional meal. I don't even know how to play golf, and I've never wanted to learn it. Besides, you're the ones who make the decisions on who gets in, not me."

"I think the diversion would do you some good, Tom. Ever since you got accepted into Bromwell, you've been so moody, and you're never around."

"Mom, I wasn't around before I got accepted." I reminded her. "There's only so long I can hear Dad lecture someone about properly ironing his underpants or Elsie's moans about how much she hates to go to formal events, but not enough to pig out and flirt with all the boys." Mom chuckled. I would always joke with her about our lack of home life; it disguised how I really felt about it.

"Sweetie, are you still moody because of Daria?" She asked, her inflection telling me her concern was real. For a second, I nearly forgot that Mom did not know Daria and I had split up. But I recovered.

"No, she got into her second choice, and Raft is an excellent school." I deflected quickly. I was glad that Daria made it into Raft. It was an excellent school, although I didn't apply to it. It was a prestigious university, to those who had heard of it.

"It certainly is." Mom spoke quickly. "I just wish it wasn't so far away. You and Daria won't be seeing each other."

"We don't see each other now. We broke up." I painfully admitted. I might as well have dealt with it now.

"Oh, Tom..." Mom started.

"I'm not upset about it." I lied. "But it's been making me think a lot and I'm actually looking forward to visiting the cove. It would be a nice distraction."

"A distraction from what?" Mom asked. "You said you weren't upset."

"Crap. A rare, but trademark, Kay Sloane snipe." I thought.

"About Bromwell." I had to admit. I hadn't prepared a proper deflection. Mom smiled a knowing smile.

"Oh, Tom, everyone goes through what you're thinking." Mom spoke as if she knew what I was thinking, which was a laugh.

"Yeah, everyone is worried that they are stupid and only get what they want because of funding bribes. Come on, Mom, enlighten us all and show us that the rich are the only people in the world." The dark voice in my head cut her down to size.

"Sweetie, everyone is nervous about starting college." Mom missed the point entirely, exactly as I expected her too. Starting college wasn't scary, it was a blessing. Hours away from this farce of a family, an entire town where no one knew who I was. New friends, the whole of New Town to explore, no, starting college was not as daunting as it seemed.

"Mom, that's not it." I tried to protest, but I realized that I shouldn't continue. Mom wouldn't understand.

"Sweetie, you don't need to put on a tough-guy face. What else could it be about Bromwell?" She asked the question hypothetically, I saw it answered with a bucket list.

"Now, why don't you head on upstairs and get some sleep. And don't fret about Daria, dear, it'll be all right."


I did head upstairs to my room, but only for a moment. When I was sure that Mom had left the hallway and was probably telling the news of the end of my romance to my father, I disappeared from the house. Night had fallen which meant the Zon was open. God, what the hell was wrong with all of them? Didn't the fact that more qualified people like Daria were shunned from attaining the nonsense prestige of Bromwell just because my uncle had donated a wing? The way the world worked angered me, and I needed to be somewhere where I could be no one. Faceless and unknown.

The Zon was crowded. Apparently, this band here was hot stuff. After watching them take the stage, however, I wished they'd give it back. Maybe it was just their image, but this bands music did not justify their following.

"Eugh. Even here, the smell of the pretense." I groaned. Was there any way to avoid this sort of crap?

"Good band?" I heard a familiar voice. I turned around to see Karen.

"Positively awful." I replied. I'm not sure if I wanted to see her again, but the diversion was interesting.

"I thought I was the only one who noticed." She said briefly. "Let's get out of here then."

"You certainly don't beat around the bush."

"I could, but then I'd have to listen to them a little longer. Let's go get something to eat, boy." I smiled. Here was someone who didn't waste time on unnecessary diversions. No posturing, no pretense, no pretty words to disguise herself.

"Like Daria. She didn't care either." My gloomy thoughts sounded, but I pushed them out. I had no time for them. No time for Daria.

The only place I ever ate food in town was at Pizza Palace, but I didn't want to go there. Daria, Jane, or maybe both, would be there. But Karen didn't seem interested in pizza anyway. Or in food. She picked up right where we left off last night. After making our way into an alley, we continued our make-out session. Our lips never stopped, and her hands were busy. I even felt her unzip my pants. But something about it made me stop. I thought this was it: no posture and no pretense. And there wasn't. But there was no connection either. I didn't feel Karen like I felt Jane. Or Daria.

"Stop." I told her. "This is wrong."

"Wrong, boy?" Karen didn't seem to believe me. "You seemed interested before."

"I'm not looking for a cheap thrill." I replied. "I don't just hop in bed with random strangers. I do have some standards." I chuckled inwardly. Didn't I just think I wanted to have no standards.

"You ran off on me yesterday when I run into an old flame, and now you're down my throat the next day as if it never happens. That doesn't bother you?" I asked. Karen said nothing, only looking annoyed that our making out was interrupted with words. I zipped my pants back up. Whatever it was I was looking for, it wasn't this. I wasn't going to turn into some Lothario who bedded and left, feeling nothing. That was a life worse then death.

I ran off, ignoring Karen's virility-related insults. I didn't know what Daria was turning me into, but I'm glad I wasn't going to end up like her.